Those of you who’ve visited here and at our previous location know that I’m not big on causes, but I champion this one for a powerful personal reason: KJ, my wife of 25 years — and life partner of 29 years total — lost her decade-long battle with breast cancer in July 2010. This disease cost KJ’s parents their only remaining child (KJ’s brother died from Ewing’s sarcoma 22 years ago), my daughter her mother, and me the woman I’d loved my entire adult life.

So yeah — breast cancer made itself a lifelong enemy here.

If you’re a woman, know your risk factors. Talk with your doctor about those risks. Learn to examine your own breasts, and conduct those exams religiously. Don’t think that breast cancer is just a disease for older women — KJ was 34 when she was first diagnosed. If you’re 40 or older, by all means get annual mammograms.

If you’re not a woman, pass the preceding paragraph along to every woman you know.

Regardless of your gender, if you have a few spare dollars in your pocket or purse this month, consider making a contribution to the breast cancer awareness/research nonprofit of your choice. (KJ’s favorite was Susan G. Komen for the Cure.) I know things are tough economically for a lot of you, but every little contribution helps.

In previous years, I’ve presented my favorite comic art acquisitions of the foregoing 12 months on the last two Fridays before year’s end. Last year, I mustered sufficient ambition to make an entire week out of it.

2010 was a sparse collecting year for me, for reasons you can probably deduce if you follow this blog with even a modicum of regularity. Despite the small number of pieces I added this year, the quality overall was exceptional, as you’ve observed if you’ve been stopping in on Comic Art Fridays like you know you ought to. I’m delighted with every single commission that was done for me in 2010.

Electra Woman (played by actress Deidre Hall, better known as Dr. Marlena Evans on the long-running NBC soap opera Days of Our Lives) was in everyday life a magazine journalist named Lori, while her youthful sidekick Dyna Girl was really her assistant Judy (played by Judy Strangis, better known as one of the students on the seminal high school drama Room 222). In a thinly disguised distaff knockoff of Batman and Robin, the duo battled crime using an amazing array of high-tech gadgets, the names of which invariably began with the prefix “Electra-” (at least it wasn’t “Bat-“). Most notable among their toys were their ElectraComs, clunkier versions of Dick Tracy’s famous wrist radio.

EW and DG’s 15-minute exploits lasted a single season — they shared their hour of airtime with segments featuring Dr. Shrinker (a mad scientist who invented a miniaturizing ray), Wonderbug (a flying dune buggy manned by three hip postadolescents), and Kaptain Kool and the Kongs (a faux rock band in the mode of the Monkees). Wonderbug and the Kaptain soldiered on for another year of Supershow after the Day-Glo superheroines and the incredible shrinking doctor got their walking papers.

But now you’re wondering… who’s that masquerading as Electra Woman and Dyna Girl?

On the left is my late wife KJ, a natural brunette who’s sporting a blonde wig here in imitation of Deidre Hall’s flowing locks. On the right is The Daughter, also referred to in this space as KM.

My original plan for this commission started long before KJ passed away due to breast cancer in July of this year. In fact, artist Geof Isherwood and I first discussed a KJ/KM tribute several years ago, but the project went onto the back burner — my fault, not Geof’s — for quite some time. In the aftermath of KJ’s passing, though, I knew it was time to complete the job.

When Geof and I brainstormed the idea initially, my concept was to dress KJ as Wonder Woman — the superheroine she most identified with — and The Daughter as Supergirl, which has been one of my pet names for her since she was young. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that wouldn’t work. KJ, who underwent a radical mastectomy in 2000 and was always a modest dresser even before that, would never have donned Wonder Woman’s signature bustier. She was, on the other hand, a dedicated Days of Our Lives fanatic — as is The Daughter even now — so portraying her in the guise of Deidre Hall’s Electra Woman struck me as the perfect compromise.

Although I commissioned this drawing in ink, Geof insisted on painting over his inks in watercolor, to create a stunning showpiece. This project became a labor of love for the artist, whose beloved wife Sonja also lost her battle with cancer in 2009. The final result is both a sterling example of Geof’s always brilliant work, and a fitting tribute to the two strong young women who have shared my life.

Geof Isherwood’s masterpiece reflects all of the reasons why I collect original comic art. I couldn’t have asked for more.

May you and yours enjoy a joyous, healthy, and fulfilling 2011, friend reader. Your Uncle Swan thanks you for all of your support and encouragement during his darkest, most challenging year, and promises to blog more often during the coming 12 months.

And that’s your final Comic Art Friday of 2010. Happy New Year, everyone!

The wheels of Common Elements grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly fine.

Way back in the Dark Ages — or as I like to call it, 2004 — I commissioned the very first artwork in what would come to be known as the Common Elements series (two or more comic book characters, usually unrelated, but connected by some “common element,” as you regulars here already know) from Michael Dooney. From that day to this, my Common Elements gallery has grown to include more than 90 drawings (with a couple in the works) representing the work of 70 artists.

But for whatever reason, I’d never asked Mike Dooney to create a second one.

It’s definitely not because I don’t adore Mike’s work. I’ve commissioned him more frequently than any other pencil artist. (My friend Bob Almond, who believes that every pencil drawing needs ink, holds the commission record in my collection by a long stretch. But all of Bob’s projects to date have been strictly inking work.) I know, however, that Mike usually prefers not to do multiple-character pieces. So, because I like the guy, I didn’t want to use up my allotment of special favors by going to the well too many times. But every time I’ve received a new Dooney commission in the mail, I’ve looked at it and thought, “I really need to get Mike to do another Common Elements.”

Which brings us to today’s artwork.

Mike’s assignment for this piece was to take two of the smallest heroines in comics — the Wasp, founding member of the Avengers, and Shrinking Violet, longtime stalwart in the Legion of Super-Heroes — and bring them together in a scenario that emphasized their diminutive size. Dooney devised this clever scenario, in which the winsome Wasp (as Stan Lee used to refer to her) asserts her self-perceived superiority over her rival with a swish of her pencil.

Although Shrinking Violet is the character with the longer history (she made her debut in DC’s Legion in 1961, almost two years before the Wasp first appeared on the cover of Marvel’s Tales to Astonish #44), it’s probably fair to say that Janet Van Dyne (later Janet Pym, after she and her crimefighting comrade Henry Pym, the original Ant-Man, married) is the better known of the two. The Wasp became one of Marvel’s most prominent female heroes, in addition to one of its earliest, thanks to her role in the Avengers.

Over the years, the Wasp gained significant notoriety for her frequent costume changes. Janet, a wealthy heiress with a taste for high fashion, updated her ensemble so many times that it’s difficult to pinpoint a specific “look” for the character. I chose the outfit depicted her by Mike Dooney because it’s one of the most attractive and distinctive of her numerous styles.

Shrinking Violet (her real name is Salu Digby — I’d prefer Violet too) joined the Legion as part of its first big expansion. Such familiar Legionnaires as Sun Boy, Bouncing Boy, and Brainiac 5 came aboard at about the same time. Like the Wasp, Vi (as her colleagues often call her) has undergone several costume changes, usually as part of the Legion’s seemingly endless rebooting. Unlike the Wasp, Vi has also changed her code name from one incarnation to the next, having also operated under the guises of Atom Girl, LeViathan, and Virus, as well as just plain Violet.

Despite her name, most of Vi’s outfits over her long career have been predominantly green, not violet. (The ensemble shown here, for example, was solid green with black accents.) But that’s comics for you.

October being National Breast Cancer Awareness Month — and if you weren’t aware, you are now — I thought it would be appropriate to devote one Comic Art Friday this month to my favorite “breast story” related to my art collection.

About five years ago, artist Geof Isherwood had this gorgeous pinup of Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, posted for sale on eBay. I fell in love with the piece at first sight. There’s something magical about the expression Geof gave Wanda here that I found compelling — innocent yet wise, inviting yet inscrutable. Geof’s a master at lending his characters depth and humanity, and this depiction of one of my favorite heroes might be among the finest he’s ever drawn.

There was only one issue.

In the artwork as Geof originally drew it, he’d blessed Wanda with Power Girl-sized mammaries — what Otter in National Lampoon’s Animal House famously referred to as “major league yabbos” — barely restrained by an abbreviated bustier that left next to nothing to the imagination.

Impressive, no doubt. But…

I shot Geof an e-mail, commenting on how much I adored his latest creation. Alas, I told him, I was going to pass on putting in a bid, because Wanda’s prominently displayed endowments rendered it a trifle too risque for my collection. (My cardinal rule for evaluating female superheroine art for purchase: If I’d be reluctant to hang it where my daughter would walk past it, it’s not for me. My good friend, artist Bob Almond, thinks I’m a prude, but he loves me anyway.)

Geof, always one of the most accommodating artists I’ve ever commissioned, wrote back, “No problem — if you like it otherwise, buy it, and I’ll tweak the figure and the costume at no extra charge.”

So I did, and he did. Half a decade later, this spectacular item remains one of the true gems in my Scarlet Witch gallery.

The best part of this story is that Geof was comfortable enough with himself as an artist to make the suggested alteration. A lot of artists would simply have said, “Hey, this is how I drew it. Take it or leave it.” It wasn’t a commission, so Geof wasn’t under any obligation to change his original vision to suit my sensibilities. But he did it without complaint. I respected him even more than I did already after that. He really is a terrific guy, in addition to being an awesomely talented drawer of stuff.

Speaking of breasts (and we were)…

If you’ve got ’em, learn to examine them regularly for changes. Stay current on your mammograms, if you’re over 40. Whatever your age, open a frank, no-holds-barred dialogue with your physician about your risk factors for breast cancer.

If you don’t have ’em, half the people you know do. Encourage the women in your life to follow the above program. One in eight of those women will be a target for breast cancer at some point in her life.

Whether you have breasts or don’t, please consider making even a small donation to the breast cancer nonprofit of your choice. Every little bit helps in the fight. Let’s find a cure before we lose more of our wives, lovers, mothers, daughters, grandmothers, aunts, nieces, and friends.

If you’ve read this blog often over the past six-plus years, you know that the cause of breast cancer awareness is close to my heart — no pun intended. My wife KJ was first diagnosed with breast cancer in September 2000. In February 2007, a metastasis (that’s a fancy medical term meaning “spread”) of the disease was identified.

The custom of half-birthdays — and ultimately, half-anniversaries — was one that I brought into our relationship from my childhood. Because my birthday is only six days before Christmas, my major gift-receiving opportunities were bunched together into a single week of the calendar year. It became my habit, therefore, to observe my own half-birthday — the date exactly six months from my actual birthday — by doing a little something nice for myself on that day.

When KJ and I became a couple, we continued to acknowledge half-holidays. We never really exchanged gifts on those days, but we always made note of the date with a card or something.

Today seemed like a good day for roses.

This being a special occasion, the roses are real. A chain grocery store near the cemetery sells a dozen pink roses quite inexpensively — I’ve purchased them there a couple of times previously. My plan is to find a set of silk ones that can remain on the crypt at all times without maintenance, except for occasions like this when I’ll swap the artificial ones for fresh.

In case you’re wondering, KJ’s crypt is unmarked in this photo only because her marker hasn’t yet arrived. It should be ready for installation in about a month. The mausoleum requires that all of the markers follow an identical pattern, so they acquire them from the same source. KJ’s will consist of her name, birth year, and death year stamped from steel in a sleek sans-serif font.

And yes… it still feels a little bit peculiar to be writing about this.

At 11:49 p.m. on Monday, July 5, 2010, my wife of 25 years — and my relationship partner of 29 years — departed this life after a lengthy, hard-fought battle with metastatic breast cancer and a progressive, degenerative liver disease the doctors were never able to fully diagnose.

She passed from this world holding my hand, before taking the hand of One greater and stronger than I, who welcomed her into the next.

KJ (as I’ve always referred to her in this space) was 44.

I will write much more about KJ, and our life together, in the days and weeks to come. But right now, my emotions are summarized by the words of this song, written by Tristan Bishop and recorded by one of KJ’s and my favorite a cappella groups, the House Jacks:

And now you’re gone
Somehow you’re gone
You were my midnight
You were my dawn
You were the shoulder that my life leaned on
You were my world
You were my song
You’re everything I could depend on
And now all you are is
Gone